


Only Half a Man

by Anonymous



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Hercules, First Time Bottoming, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Size Difference, Size Kink, dom iolaus, mostly just sex though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 13:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11647668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It was not right that he, a hero and the son of a God, should be here on his knees, waiting passively to be touched.





	Only Half a Man

**Author's Note:**

> Having indulged myself in The Sentinel (http://archiveofourown.org/works/2779157) and an Xena/Gabrielle AU smutfest (http://archiveofourown.org/works/10846734) I figured I should throw a fic at a pairing I enjoyed during the same window of my misspent youth. And I see nobody has posted a Hercules/Iolaus fic for almost a year (!) - so here, have a bottom!Hercules smutty ficlet. May there be many more!

"Stop tensing up," said Iolaus, trying to push Hercules' spread thighs wider apart. Hercules grunted, trying to comply, but it wasn't that easy. He felt ... vulnerable like this, on his hands and knees, his naked back exposed. It wasn't exactly a familiar feeling for a demigod.

"Hey." Iolaus' calloused hand closed on his shoulder and squeezed. "Are you okay? We can stop, you know. We don't have to do this now."

The feeling of those familiar fingers, rubbing over the tense muscles of his shoulders, and then absently through his hair, helped Hercules achieve what words had not; he felt himself unwind, relax.

"No, we can ... we can do it," said Hercules. "I - I want you to."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I trust you, Iolaus."

"Well, I never doubted that." Iolaus resumed his previous position, dwarfed between Hercules' thighs, each one of which were as wide across as his head. But he didn't hesitate to take charge, shoving them apart and shouldering himself between them.

An ox is larger than a man, thought Hercules, dizzy - and yet mankind yoked and harnessed it, not by virtue of might but by will. 

"Now, relax for me. Think pleasant thoughts." Iolaus fingers skated over his bare lower back, soothing circles where the skin was pale and sensitive, having rarely seen the sun. Hercules heard himself make an unmanly whine, pressing up eagerly into the touch. In the position he was in, supporting his own weight on his palms - _the position Iolaus had put him in_ \- his great strength was of little use, and the differences between their heights was erased.

The fingers dipped down, and Hercules felt his muscles drawing up tight again, half in anticipation and half in dismay.

It was not right that he, a hero and the son of a God, should be here on his knees, waiting passively to be touched. He knew that men did such things together - knew that many already believed that he and his companion were engaging in such acts. But of course everyone would assume that he was the one to play the man’s part, and that open-hearted, merry Iolaus would be the one to receive _him_.

Iolaus himself had probably expected it, as they advanced slowly from innocent brushes in the night, to sleeping twined in each other’s arms after days filled with peril and tragedy – and then to furtive touches, gentle kisses, and finally finding completion rubbing together, Iolaus’ fingers in his mouth, his own hands fisted in yellow curls. Iolaus had shown him the pleasures men could find together with lips and tongues, the two of them head-to-foot in the bedrolls, Hercules straining to imitate what his clever lover demonstrated.

But when it had come to this act, Hercules had found himself unwilling to proceed as they had both expected. Iolaus was willing, and experienced enough in the act to assure him that Hercules’ organ – which was well in proportion to the rest of him – would create no difficulty that couldn’t be overcome. And yet.

Hercules had had sex with many women, and enjoyed it well enough – but he did not want the same experience with Iolaus. Hercules the conqueror, bearing his lover down to the bed, planting himself within them, letting them feel his might ... that might be well and good, for later.

But Hercules the conquered, Hercules tremulous and unsure, to be coaxed and persuaded, to be the _object_ of lust, with no duty but to _bear it_ … this was the secret desire he whispered to Iolaus, flushed and ashamed, late at night after far too many glasses of mead between them.

And Iolaus had pulled him close and let him feel his own excitement at the thought, hard and insistent through the bedrolls, and that night he had rubbed himself off against Hercules’ thigh while Hercules lay with his arms above his head and let it happen.

“Alright, here we go,” said Iolaus, breaking him out of his thoughts as those fingers continued, undeterred, down into the secret curve of Hercules’ body.

“Oh,” he gasped, having never been touched there before – only Iolaus’ possessive hand over his buttocks, as they rutted together. None of his women had sought their pleasure – or his – in that space.

“Keep breathing, in and out,” ordered Iolaus, brushing his fingertips up and down, up and down. “No, don’t try to look back – face forward, and let your head hang down. Keep your muscles relaxed.”

 _Bossy jerk,_ thought Hercules fondly, doing as he was told. It helped, sending a signal to his body that this was no time for action.

Strong hands parted his buttocks, and Hercules moaned again, feeling the chill of air as he was exposed, feeling Iolaus' keen eyes on him, there, in that ignominious place. A finger found the wrinkled rim of his anus and rubbed around the outside, as Hercules tried to swallow back his reactions, his groans out his relief at being touched there, that Iolaus didn't find it disgusting or repellant.

"Yeah, this is what you need, isn't it," said Iolaus comfortingly, still keeping that finger moving. He paused to pour something wet and cool - the oil, thought Hercules vaguely, they had talked about the necessity of this - over his movements, and then patted Hercules' side. "Deep breath," he ordered, "I'm going inside. Be good for me now, and take it."

Yes, thought Hercules, he wanted to be good, he wanted Iolaus to be pleased with him.

Still, the finger breaching him was a mix of sensations, not all good. He gasped at the stretch of it (and if that was one little finger, however was he going to take all of Iolaus' surprisingly substantial cock?), the slight spark and burn, the sense of intrusion, of wrongness. But a greater part of him gloried in it, to take a piece of his lover inside his body, to make room for him.

"Very nice," said Iolaus approvingly, moving briskly in and out as Hercules huffed and panted and shifted his hips to feel it better. "You're a natural."

A natural, thought Hercules dazedly. Perhaps it was this, that he was made for - cursed with, and defined by, like his own partial divinity.

"Here comes two, now." It was different, pulling and tugging, trying to open him wider and wider. Hercules found that he liked it even better, the penetration, liked bearing down against it. He could feel himself loosening and it only meant that he was getting closer to his goal.

Iolaus took a long time - too long - working the slick oil into him, but he wouldn't hear any of Hercules' complaints, shushed him and soothed him through it and kept going. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "You're going to enjoy every second of this. So be patient and stop complaining."

It suited Hercules, just now, to be told what to do, and yet he fussed because he could, because he knew Iolaus would give him exactly what he needed and absolutely nothing else.

"I'm giving you a pass this time because it's your first go-around, but you should know that in general I don't accept this much back-talk."

He could hear the sound of liquid, knew that Iolaus was probably anointing himself, his cock, getting it ready for Hercules to take. He wanted it, desperately.

"Alright, alright, calm down." Hercules had heard that tone of voice with horses, when they fidgeted. Strange to be on the receiving end himself.

"Bear down for me." The scalding hot tip of Iolaus' cock, which Hercules had known between his thighs, in his hands, in his mouth. Now it was nudging inside of him, slow and steady, relentless, pushing its way in, splitting him open. An oil slicked hand cupped his bollocks, rolling them, coaxing him through it as he was inexorably invaded.

"Ah, Gods," he moaned, his voice high and tight as a woman's.

"Mine," said Iolaus, biting down on the meat of his shoulder. "This thick cock is mine, these heavy balls, these massive hands. Thighs like a tree trunk, I swear to the Gods, arms that could carry a wagon _and_ the horse - and this tender, stuffed-full little hole. All mine."

"Yours," agreed Hercules, dropping down onto his elbows, ass in the air like a bitch in heat so that Iolaus could fuck him better. He didn't need any more invitation - and soon Hercules was muffling his cries with his fist, that shaky-good spark whenever Iolaus’ dick brushed over that shivery place inside of him. _Made for this_ , Hercules reminded himself - why else would the Gods hide such pleasure there, where nobody else could find it?

“I’m going to finish inside you,” Iolaus warned, sounding strained.

“Do it, do it, _please_.”

Hands grasped Hercules’ dick where it was pressed up against his belly and tugged it. “Come for me first. Come, Herc. _Now_.”

Hercules felt his jaw drop down as it happened, his brain shooting out of his cock. In the back of his mind he registered Iolaus, breaking rhythm, a few erratic thrusts before he hunched over his back and shuddered.

“Mmn, give it to me,” whispered Hercules.

They came down together. Hercules let out an embarrassing whimper when Iolaus withdrew, but he let himself be settled when the other man gave him a rub-down, then delicately cleaned between his legs. Hercules laid still and let him do it without a murmur. They ended up wrapped up together in the same blanket, still naked, Iolaus resting his head on Hercules’ chest.

“So. You really liked that,” said Iolaus. Hercules was relieved – although ultimately unsurprised – to hear that there was no judgment in his voice, just a simple statement of fact.

“I really, really did,” admitted Hercules. “Do you think we can – do it again sometime?”

“Oh, as many times as you like, Big Guy. Just say the word.”

“I know it’s – unmanly.”

“Babe, you could be dressed up in a silk gown and still be the manliest sonofabitch to roam the earth, okay? Loving a man doesn’t make you weak. Liking it up the ass doesn’t make you weak. Enjoying being told what to do in the sack doesn’t mean anything except that we’re even better suited than I thought. At least that’s how I see it.”

Hercules nudged their lips together, coaxing Iolaus’ mouth open so that he could slip his tongue inside.

“I always knew you were the brains of the operation,” he said, when they finally parted again.

Iolaus tugged him back in by the hair, laughing. “And don’t you forget it!”

 


End file.
